Many More Miles To Walk
by PeaceBaby7
Summary: There was an accident. The sun doesn't seem to shine as bright anymore and a silence has fallen over the entire zoo. One resident was injured, but everyone has been affected. No one knows if things will ever return to normal.
1. Dead Inside

"Hurry! Get him on the table! We're losing him!" Kowalski commanded as he, Rico, and Private carried their leader into the zoo infirmary.

Rico and Private laid Skipper's bruised, injured, and bleeding body on the examination table.

"We're going to need help!" Kowalski said, setting to work assessing his wounds. "Private, go find some hands!"

"Aye!" Private acknowledged as he leapt from the table. He ran to the chimps' habitat first.

"Mason! Phil!" he called in a panic.

Mason climbed down from his tree with Phil following close behind.

"What's the trouble, Private? You look rather shaken up," Mason asked, facing him with concern.

"It's Skipper! We were on a mission and he got caught in a motor vehicle accident! We need help!" Private explained as he found himself at war with the tears behind his eyes.

Mason exchanged an alarmed look with Phil and the mute chimp nodded with a serious expression. Mason turned back to the small, frightened penguin.

"Just tell us where he is," he said.

"In the infirmary," Private told them, "I'm going to find more help!"

Mason and Phil nodded and headed for the infirmary, and Private headed to Marlene's.

"Oh my God," Marlene replied when Private explained the situation. "Absolutely, I'm on my way."

Private and Marlene rushed to the infirmary, where Kowalski was using his portable cat scan machine to check Skipper's internal organs and bones.

"Kowalski, how's he doing?" Private called as he and Marlene climbed atop the examination table.

Kowalski set aside his cat scan and turned to him with serious eyes.

"He's alive. That's the important thing," he said, turning back to Skipper.

"Kowalski," Mason said, pulling his index and middle fingers from Skipper's jugular, "his pulse is weakening."

Kowalski checked behind him and when he affirmed the news, he turned to Rico.

"Go to HQ and bring the crash cart. Hurry!" he commanded. Rico nodded and used his feet to propel himself from the examination table.

Marlene knelt down at his head and gently took his face in her paws, trying to keep from crying.

"Skipper?" she called. "Skipper, can you hear me?"

Skipper didn't respond.

"You're going to be okay, Skipper. You're going to be okay. I promise."

— § —

"How is he?" Maurice asked as the chimps and Marlene left the infirmary. Word had spread across the zoo about Skipper's condition and there was a crowd of zoosters outside that had been waiting for over two hours for news.

"He crashed once, and he had some hemorrhaging in his abdomen, but he's stable now," Mason informed them.

Marlene shook her head. "I'm not so sure. Did you see the look in Kowalski's eyes? There's something wrong, and he's not telling us," she said, hugging herself as a cold chill danced on her spine.

Mason placed his hand on her shoulder. "He'll tell us when he's ready. That's probably why he wanted us to leave. Maybe he wants to be certain if something's wrong before telling anyone," he suggested.

"I hope nothing's wrong, but I just can't help this really bad feeling I have," Marlene said, shifting her arms down over her queasy stomach.

"Well," Maurice cut in, "if there is, Skipper can pull through. He always does."

Marlene looked down. "I hope you're right."

— § —

"Kowalski, this can't be right. Are you absolutely sure?" Private asked in hopes that his temporary first in command was far from right.

"I'm certain, I'm afraid," Kowalski answered, looking down at his unconscious leader with dark, serious eyes. "You should go inform the others. Both of you, you deserve some fresh air. I'll stay here for observations."

Private and Rico's first instinct was to protest leaving their leader, but both were tired and could barely stand seeing their leader with the knowledge that someone would have to break the news to him when he awoke.

When they pushed through the door of the zoo vet, a deadly silence fell among the zoosters. Everyone could tell by their expressions that something was wrong. The sun setting on the horizon seemed to turn a deeper shade of orange, casting an eerie glow on the zoo. Even the shadows were cast at odd angles, as if they were trying to flee the scene. The temperature seemed to drop, yet rise at the same time. The humidity had caused sweat to break out on the zoosters foreheads, even though most of their toes had turned numb with cold.

"No . . ." Julien started, taking a step back. "He's not—"

"No," Private interrupted. "He's not dead. He should awaken in a few hours."

"Then . . . what's wrong?" Roy asked.

Private and Rico exchanged a glance.

"Well, it appears that Skipper suffered serious blunt force trauma to his head. He has—" Private choked on the words and had to clear his throat. "He has an eighty-seven percent chance that—he'll never walk again."

For what seemed an eternity, no one said anything. Time seemed to cease existence. Not even the wind dared a whisper.

"But—how does a head injury affect your legs?" Maurice inquired in a dry voice.

"The part of his brain that controls his legs was severely damaged," Private explained. He seemed to have aged twenty years in one afternoon.

"But what about the thirteen percent chance that he _can_ walk?" Marlene asked with a touch of hope. "Doesn't that count for something?"

"Kowalski said that if Skipper put forth some effort in physical therapy, he could be able to salvage that small chance, but . . . I don't know," Private answered.

Another silence lasted before Kowalski called Private and Rico in to help move their leader to HQ.

— § —

Kowalski was in his lab running tests on and analyzing Skipper's cat scan, blood samples, x-rays, urinalysis, and any other possible test he could run to try and find some answers—_any_ answer—for the rest of that night.

His mind kept wandering back to when he had to tell Skipper about his condition.

He'd had to do some pretty hard things in his life, but nothing would ever compare to that moment. As soon as he told him, Skipper's face had turned a deeply frightening, indescribable stare. It fell into a corpse-like, lifeless, bloodless stare that he couldn't decipher. For several moments, he and Kowalski held silent eye contact until Skipper finally turned his head and gaze perpendicular to the bunk above him. Kowalski suggested physical therapy and told him that with a fair amount of effort, he just might be able to walk again. Although, he'd said, it would take a tremendous amount of time and patience. Even after he potentially started walking, it would be a while before he could do all the things he used to.

Skipper never replied.

Kowalski stayed a few more moments, waiting for a response, and when none came, he decided Skipper just needed to be alone to think. Private had come to his lab about three hours ago to inform him that Skipper had fallen asleep, and soon after, Private and Rico had turned in themselves.

Kowalski stared at the cat scan, at the spot on Skipper's brain that hindered his ability to walk. He just—kept staring at it, trying to convince himself that it was a shadow or some mistake on his part. But he couldn't blind himself to the facts.

_Crash._

"_Skipper!"_

Kowalski raced out of his lab at Private's cry to find he and Rico trying to calm Skipper, who was on the floor flailing his flippers around as his legs hung limp beneath him.

"No! You're all wrong!" he was screaming. "I can walk! I can! Get off of me!"

Kowalski found himself unable to move from his spot standing outside, as if his feet had become one with the cement floor of the HQ. His heart had plummeted into his stomach, and the blood had drained from his face.

"I can walk! Why are you doing this to me?!"

Skipper was crying now. Private and Rico tried to calm him down and they pulled at his flippers to try to get him back in bed, but Skipper fought back with all the strength he could muster in his sore and bruised muscles. Rico finally was forced to regurgitate a bottle of chloroform and gauze. When Skipper relaxed and fell unconscious, Rico and Private finally pulled him back into his bunk. For the next several minutes, nobody moved nor spoke, instead stared at Skipper's limp body asleep in the bottom bunk, and listened to the steadying of their heartbeats. Each of them knew that what had just happened would stay on their minds for a long time to come.


	2. I Don't Need Sympathy

The next morning was quiet. The bruises on Skipper's body had turned the deepest possible shade of purple, his left eye had swelled to its max, and his beak remained shut.

Private had tried to get him to eat, but Skipper didn't even acknowledge his existence. Rico had started to work on a wheelchair for him in Kowalski's lab, and Kowalski remained topside to take messages from visitors. He knew that the last thing Skipper would want is a) for people to see him in his current state, and b) sympathy.

Later on that evening, Rico and Kowalski presented Skipper with his wheelchair. Skipper sideways glanced at it for a few seconds out of the corner of his eye, and then turned back to the bunk above him. Kowalski said he'd leave it next to his bunk for him and did so.

"Skipper?" Kowalski called a couple hours later. He entered the room from his lab with a clipboard. "I'd like to ask some memory questions, just to test your mind. Is that okay?"

Skipper remained silent for a moment and folded his flippers over his stomach.

"Whatever," he answered quietly.

Kowalski pretended not to notice his indifferent tone and clicked his pen.

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Tuesday," Skipper answered. Kowalski marked him correct.

"What about the date?"

"July 2, 2014," Skipper answered.

"Excellent. I want to read to you three words. Then you will repeat them back to me. They are: airplane, building, table."

"Airplane, building, table," Skipper repeated.

"Good. How are you feeling? Physically, I mean?" Kowalski asked, making some notes.

"Like I got hit by a drunk driver in a Toyota in the middle of Manhattan," Skipper answered, causing the tragic memory to flash in Kowalski's mind, making him cringe.

"Where does it hurt?" Kowalski asked, keeping his eyes on his notes.

"Everywhere," Skipper answered. "Except my legs. They're just tingly," he added in a softer tone.

Kowalski finally rose his gaze toward him. "And," he started with a clear of his throat, "what were those three words from earlier?"

"Airplane, building, table."

"Good," Kowalski said, finishing up his notes. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "You know, things could be worse. Just be thankful you're alive."

Skipper turned his head toward him and stared him dead in the eye for the first time. "Am I, Kowalski? Am I really?"

Kowalski held eye contact with a hard stare, pressing his beak shut. Skipper turned back to the above bunk and remained silent for the remainder of the day.

— § —

Two weeks passed and the only time Skipper spoke or even moved was to get into his wheelchair and go to the bathroom. His diet had decreased to nibbling on a single fish for entire days, causing his weight to drop off drastically. Kowalski tended to his wounds every morning and evening, and most of the bruises had either faded or turned a sickly shade of yellowish-green. During open hours, Private and either Kowalski or Rico would go entertain the visitors, knowing that Private's cuteness would distract them while someone stayed with Skipper. Alice grew suspicious of the penguins, as she always had, but considering if she reported a or all of the penguins missing every time they weren't in their habitat, she'd have lost her job by now. So, she shrugged it off, knowing that the penguin would turn up eventually.

Missions became three-penguin operations, and Marlene would stay and look after Skipper while they were gone. Marlene would coax him into eating, or playing cards or chess, and once she offered to take him out for some fresh air. Skipper declined all of her offers with a slow shake of his head. So, Marlene spent most of her time there just sitting and waiting for the team to return. Finally, she asked Kowalski to speak with her privately upon their return.

"There has to be something we can do, Kowalski. This can't go on," she said once they were topside.

"I just don't know what to do, Marlene," Kowalski replied. "He's just so distant. It's like he's in his own little world. We've all tried talking to him, but I don't even know if he listens half the time! None of us can even look him in the eye anymore. They're just so . . . empty. I can't describe it."

Marlene looked at the ground and sighed. "He's in there somewhere, I know he is. I can feel it," she said, hugging herself.

Kowalski put a flipper on her shoulder. "I think so too. I just don't know how to bring him out," he told her.

Marlene shook her head and her eyes started to glisten. "I just don't understand. Skipper hasn't done anything to deserve this," she said with a quivering lip. "You know, as annoyed as it made me, I actually kind of miss him bursting into my habitat unannounced."

Kowalski tried to think of something to say to make her feel better, but couldn't find the right words. Instead, he pulled her into an embrace as she broke into tears.

— § —

Later on that evening, Private brought down the dinner Alice had left in their fish bowl. After giving Kowalski, Rico, and himself a fair share, he waddled over to Skipper's bunk with his.

"Skipper?" he called softly. "I have dinner."

Skipper didn't answer.

"Skipper, you need to eat. This is unhealthy. How do you ever expect to walk again if you don't keep your strength up—?"

"Don't you get it, Private?" Skipper snapped, turning his head sharply to him. "I _will_ never walk again. As your commanding officer, I _order_ you to leave me be."

Skipper turned his head back and adjusted it on his pillow. Private stood by his bunk holding Skipper's dinner with a dumbfounded expression and tears welling in his eyes. Kowalski and Rico watched from across the room with their beaks hanging open. Kowalski waddled over to him and rested his flipper on his shoulders.

"It's okay, Private. Come on over here," he said in a soothing tone as he guided the young cadet away from the bunks, but Private stopped after a couple of steps with his expression hardening. What he did next came as a shock to everyone, even himself.

"Hey! What the hell was that for?!" Skipper said when Private threw the fish at him with all his might.

"You are _not_ my commanding officer!" Private screamed. "My commanding officer fought off an angry walrus with a wing and a prayer! He didn't let anything stand in his way! Not villains, not annoying lemurs, not even psycho zookeepers in Hoboken! My commanding officer never gave up, not for anything! I don't know where my commanding officer is, but he is _not_ the penguin that's been lying in that bottom bunk for over two weeks! He's _not_ the one who gave up on himself without even trying! And he is _not_ the yellow-bellied coward that lies before me now," he said harshly, narrowing his eyes and staring hard into Skipper's incredulous expression. Kowalski and Rico's lower beak seemed to rest on the floor of the HQ as silence flooded the room. After waiting a moment for his words to settle, Private turned on his heel, climbed the ladder, and pulled himself from the hatch with the eyes of the others—even Skipper's—following him out.

When Kowalski and Rico turned back to Skipper, he was propped up in his bunk by his elbow, looking down at the floor with a concentrated expression.

His expression almost looked . . . guilty.

— § —

Kowalski left Rico with Skipper to go after Private. After searching virtually the entire zoo, he finally found him on the clock tower facing Central Park. He approached him from behind, but Private seemed to have sensed his presence as he said, "I'm not taking it back," in a hard, serious tone.

Kowalski stopped behind him and eyed him sympathetically. "I'm not here for that, Private," he told him. "I wanted to know if you were okay."

"I'm just peachy, Kowalski," he snapped, making Kowalski wince.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm glad you said what you did. It might have given Skipper the push he needed," Kowalski told him.

"I was going for more of a shove," Private muttered.

Kowalski cracked a smile. "I'm pretty certain it was," he said, stepping forward so he was next to him on the edge of the clock tower. He tried to meet his eye. "You have every right to be angry, you know. Even Rico's angry, and Marlene! But, you know, Skipper has a right to be angry too, even though I don't agree with his taking it out on everyone else. But he is the one taking this the hardest. Fighting is in his blood. If it weren't for science, I'd bet my left flipper that his blood cells battle each other for oxygen. Without his legs, he's—lost," he explained.

"Then why doesn't he do the physical therapy?" Private asked irritably.

"Honestly? Because he's scared. He's afraid of the thought of trying and failing to use his legs in front of anyone, even us. He's afraid of appearing weak and helpless," Kowalski told him calmly.

Private's frustrated expression softened. "I think you're right. The last thing Skipper would want is sympathy. I just want things to go back to normal," he said mournfully.

Kowalski sighed and patted his back. "We all do. Come on, let's get back to HQ."


	3. What I Can't Do

Things remained quiet for the rest of that evening. Skipper had returned to his usual position in his bunk, although he had more thought in his expression as opposed to the blank, indescribable one from before.

After a good night's sleep, Kowalski awoke to a shuffling sound from below about an hour before the alarm. When he rubbed his eyes and looked over the side of his bunk, his mind snapped into full awareness at what he saw.

Skipper had managed to grab his wheelchair from next to his bunk and sit it parallel to it. After locking the wheel closest to him, he reached across the wheelchair and grasped the right armrest. When he pulled on it, his legs fell limp to the floor and he cringed, but managed to maintain his grip on the armrest. After a few minutes of struggling, twisting, and tugging, he pulled himself into the wheelchair and took a few deep breaths. Going almost three weeks without training had started to leave him a bit out of shape. That and not eating properly.

Kowalski shrunk himself back into his bunk in an attempt to keep knowledge of his awareness oblivious to Skipper. He watched as Skipper wheeled himself to his lab door, open it, and slip inside. Kowalski stealthily dropped down from his bunk and tiptoed to the crack in the door and peered inside.

Skipper had wheeled himself to his worktable, where Kowalski had all of his notes of Skipper's condition and on his weekly memory questions strown about it, and on the wall behind the table, several of Skipper's cat scans of his brain hung on the wall, each showing the injury at a different angle. Skipper glanced over some of the notes, and then looked up at the scans. It was hard to read Skipper's expression from Kowalski's position, but he could tell that they were starting to get to him.

"So, is that dark spot what's keeping me from walking?" he asked.

Kowalski smiled. Even though he was physically out of practice, he was still sharp as a tack. He pulled himself into the lab and stepped up behind him.

"Affirmative. In your inner motor cortex," he answered as if the past few weeks never happened.

"And the chance of me ever walking again was . . ."

"Thirteen percent. But with physical therapy and determination, you could beat those odds," Kowalski encouraged.

Skipper looked at his little webbed feet. "What if I fail?" he asked slowly.

Kowalski smiled. "You're too stubborn to fail," he told him.

Skipper smiled for what seemed like the first time in a century, and he turned to look at him. "You think so?"

Kowalski nodded. "I know so," he assured him. "I must warn you, though. You _will_ fail—at first. I know you have a small patience threshold, Skipper, which will not be your best friend. It could take months, but if you work with me, I know you can do it."

Skipper's smile faded as Kowalski explained. He looked back to his feet. "What makes you so sure I can?" he asked insecurely.

Kowalski smiled warmly and came around Skipper's front, kneeling down next to him. "Skipper, these legs have taken you through a lot. When Blowhole made his first strike, you didn't rest until his plan was foiled. When I caught a heat stroke in Algeria, you dragged me like a potato sack until you found help," he said, smiling. Skipper smiled back. "Your legs have carried you through more in your life than anything. Something tells me you still have a lot more miles to run."

"Okay, now you're making me sound like a car," Skipper joked. Kowalski laughed.

"Well, how's this for motivation? You won't be able to kick Julien out of here without legs."

"Oh, fishcakes! When do we start?" Skipper asked, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Both of them laughed and Skipper released his lieutenant, slumping back in the wheelchair with a sigh. A moment of silence passed when Skipper looked down at the floor.

"I'm sorry . . . for all I've put you boys through these past couple weeks," he said slowly.

Kowalski pressed his beak shut for a moment. "Well, I forgive you. The other's will, too. Just give them some time. Your behavior may have been a bit annoying and stressful, but completely understandable. We know you better than you think, Skipper."

Skipper nodded. "Yeah, but I shouldn't have taken out my misery on you all when it wasn't your fault. By the way, what were the results of that accident?"

"Two deaths, seven injured, and a lot of backed up traffic," Kowalski answered.

"And the drunkard?"

"Serving a life sentence."

Skipper nodded with satisfaction. It was this kind of carelessness in the world that caused the most devastation. "Good."

— § —

Skipper laughed. "Yeah, until Ringtail made it blow up," he replied to Kowalski, who nodded in agreement.

"Kowalski?"

Skipper and Kowalski turned at the sound of Private's voice. He and Rico had just woken up and were coming into the lab with their eyes passing between Skipper and Kowalski, then to each other.

"What's—going on in here?" Private asked, hastily coming into the room with Rico trailing behind.

Skipper and Kowalski exchanged a glance and Skipper turned back to Private, who'd come to a stop a couple feet away.

"Private," Skipper started, "I'll have you know I took down that angry walrus with a wing and a prayer, _and another wing_," he said with a smile.

Private stood frozen still for a moment and looked as if he were meeting Skipper again for the first time. He glanced at Kowalski, who nodded encouragingly. When Private turned back to Skipper, he ran to him and threw his flippers around his neck from the side of his wheelchair, and wept over his shoulder.

"I thought I'd never see you again!" he cried as if Skipper had been gone for months.

Skipper sat stunned at the gesture and reached over to pat his shoulder. He tried to say something, but couldn't. He looked at Kowalski, who was eyeing the cadet with misty eyes as he continued to weep over his shoulder. Rico watched the two from his place with an indecipherable expression. A moment later, he left to get breakfast.

— § —

"Come on, Skipper, you've got it!" Kowalski encouraged as Skipper attempted to swivel his feet on his ankles, pointing his toes away from each other. He concentrated all of his energy to his legs and his feet slowly but surely twitched their way around on his ankles. Finally, he let out his breath and relaxed his feet.

"I'm sorry," he said, panting, "I can't do it . . . I just can't."

Kowalski braced his flipper on his shoulder. "No, you did great! That was from ninety to about one hundred twenty degrees in less than twenty minutes!" he encouraged.

"Yet you're acting like I just jumped out of this chair and ran a mile," Skipper said, blotting some sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

Kowalski made some notes. "That's because getting you walking again is going to be a very gradual process. The nerve cells in your brain that control your legs are severely damaged. It will take time for it to heal. The first step is getting your feet under your control, then your hip and knee. That's when we'll start applying some weights. Soon enough, you'll be able to stand and pivot," he explained.

"Wow," Skipper replied with raised eyebrows. "That sure is a lot. You said it could take months?"

"Most likely, I'm afraid. But better late than never, right?" Kowalski encouraged.

"I guess," Skipper said, sipping some water.

"Also, take into account that you did nothing for over two weeks. Your leg muscles are most definitely fatigued. That combined with your poor diet has weakened you a bit. But you'll pull through. I know you will," Kowalski said with a warm smile, hugging his clipboard to his chest.

Skipper sighed and nodded. "Yeah, that's true. I just don't know what came over me. I just couldn't stop thinking," he said, looking down in thought.

"You want to talk about it?" Kowalski offered, taking a seat on a nearby chair.

"I was thinking about . . . all the things I'd never be able to do anymore. Like going on missions, or protecting the zoo. Once, I even thought about . . ." His voice trailed off and he looked at Kowalski hesitantly.

"It's all right, Skipper. You can tell me. I assure you that nothing will leave this lab," Kowalski assured him, gesturing to the empty lab around them.

Skipper sighed. "I thought about how if I ever had a son or daughter, I wouldn't be able to be a real father to it," he admitted. Kowalski was taken aback.

"Wow, I never knew you thought about having a family," he said.

"Well, I suppose everyone does every now and then," Skipper said, looking at his legs again.

Kowalski sighed with empathy. "If it makes you feel better, it doesn't take having the ability to walk to be a good father. Love and attention are all that matter," he assured him.

"I know that," Skipper said with an indifferent shrug, "but what about protection? If something happened and I had no control over the result . . . I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I even feel that way now, about if something happened to you three."

Kowalski smiled. "Don't worry about us. You've trained us well."

Skipper smiled back. "That's another thing that scares me. That you three will stop needing me," he said.

"Oh, don't worry," Kowalski said with a grin, "we'll always need you. Who else is gonna slap us into shape?"

Skipper laughed. "Got that right."

Their attention was averted when someone knocked on the lab door.

"Come in!" Kowalski called.

Private opened the door and stuck his head in, letting them know that lunch had arrived.

— § —

Lunch was . . . awkward.

It was the first time the four of them had eaten together since the accident. Private ate as if he hadn't a care in the world, Rico prodded at his fish and nibbled on it here and there, and Kowalski ate his the way he always had, as if nothing had happened. Skipper had inadvertently eaten the fastest, since he'd eaten so little for so long, and stared down at his empty plate, trying to find something to say—something that would break the ice. He glanced at Rico.

"Thanks for the—wheelchair. I admire your craftsmanship," he said, trying and failing to force a smile. Rico made eye contact for a moment, nodded and mumbled a barely audible 'you're welcome,' and then returned to prodding his fish.

A few minutes passed before Private spoke up.

"So," he started with a sincere smile, "Kowalski tells me you did well in therapy this morning."

Skipper nodded and shifted in his wheelchair. "Yeah, I got my feet to open about one hundred twenty degrees in under twenty minutes," he said, feeling a bit odd trying to act like that was such a big accomplishment.

Private smiled. "That's great! Right, Rico?" he asked, turning his gaze to the penguin across the table.

Rico looked up at the cadet and nodded unenthusiastically before mumbling something about being full and pushing his plate toward the center of the table and heading for his bunk. Skipper turned his wheelchair to watch him climb to the top bunk and lie down. Without making eye contact, he told the others he was going to the bathroom and did so, shutting the door.

He turned on the tap in the sink to drown out the sobs that escaped from his throat.


	4. Lost Brothers

The rest of the month seemed to go by slowly. Kowalski guided Skipper through three twenty-minute sessions a day, and encouraged him with each bit of progress he made. Skipper finally was able to open his feet at full swivel in only three minutes and seventeen seconds. With his improved diet, he started to gain back the weight he'd lost and looked much healthier by each day. For small missions, Kowalski allowed Rico and Private to take care of it themselves, and for the more serious missions, Kowalski would let Marlene continue to stay with him, and Skipper no longer objected to chess or cards, even had offered it _to_ her sometimes.

No one could miss Private's vast change in mood. He was much happier now that Skipper was much more engaged. He and Skipper spent a lot of time talking. Private would report missions, accomplishments, and progress in training, and Skipper would report his progress in therapy, his ideas on what he should do first when he could walk again, and how proud he was of his team for how well they handled the situation since the accident.

Kowalski found himself happy with the way things were going. Each step Skipper took toward progress—no pun intended—gave him hope that things would go back to normal soon. And watching Skipper and Private amend their relationship was touching. Private had taken the first couple of weeks pretty hard, so it was good to see him smiling again.

Rico was another matter. During meals, he acted engaged in the conversation, but didn't say much of anything and left as soon as he was finished. Whenever Skipper tried to engage with him, he kept it brief, and then made some excuse to leave. Kowalski frowned whenever this happened. He thought it would start to clear up, but with each day, he saw no change in his behavior. Finally, Skipper worked up the nerve to ask about it.

"Kowalski, is Rico . . . ashamed of me?" Skipper asked after his second session of therapy for the day.

Kowalski sighed and shook his head. "No, he's not _ashamed _of you, per se. I talked to him a few days ago about his behavior, actually. He's just upset because of the way you acted the first couple of weeks," he said, without meeting his eye.

"Still? I said I was sorry. I just—was lost," Skipper protested.

Kowalski closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's much more than that, Skipper. It took a toll on all of us. Rico . . . he had to listen to Private cry himself to sleep every night. For that time, they even shared a bunk because Rico didn't want him to feel alone. While Rico drowned himself with training and missions to keep his mind off the situation, Private didn't put much effort into anything. He would do just enough to get the job done and then just—nothing. I tried to talk to both of them, but it never did much good. They thought you'd just given up. Things weren't the same without you."

Skipper stared at Kowalski, stricken speechless. "What about you?" he said after a few moments of silence.

Kowalski smiled. "Well, we found out a lot about each other those two weeks. Rico's more sensitive than he lets on, Private's more insecure than he lets on, and me, I guess my gut is stronger than I once thought. I didn't know when or how, but I knew you'd come around. I just had to keep everything from falling apart before you did," he explained.

Skipper looked down. "Wow . . . no wonder Rico's mad at me," he said slowly. "Then why does he seem to be upset with Private?—and you? He's never very active with any of us, as far as I can see."

Kowalski hesitated. "Well, if you want the truth, he's mad at Private because he thinks he forgave you too easily. He's mad at me for never being angry with you in the first place. Just—please don't let this bother you too much. Rico just needs some time is all. If it makes you feel any better, he doesn't want to be mad at you. Whenever he tries to let it go, he sees you again and all those past weeks just come back. He can't help it. He won't admit it, but he is proud of your progress and he's secretly rooting you on. Don't tell him I said that, though," he said with wide eyes. "Like I said, you just need to give him time until he can see you as the old Skipper again," he explained, finally looking up at him.

Skipper looked at his legs. "That's the problem. I don't know how long that's going to take."

— § —

"Checkmate," Marlene said, trapping Skipper's king. Skipper smacked his forehead in defeat.

"Fishcakes! That's like the third time in a row!" he said, trying to figure out if the situation was humorous or frustrating.

"Fourth, actually, but who's counting?" Marlene corrected with a grin. "Someone's getting out of practice."

"No kidding," Skipper agreed with a laugh. "I can only imagine how long it's gonna take to get my battle skills sharpened up once I get to walking."

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about that. I'll bet you could kick-flip before you even learned how to walk as a hatchling," Marlene teased. Skipper laughed.

"Thanks for the encouragement," he said.

"Anytime," Marlene replied with a grin. "So, how's that physical therapy going anyway? When I ask Kowalski, he says it's going fine and everything else is classified. You know I'll cheer you on no matter what, right?"

Skipper shifted in his wheelchair. "Yeah, I know, Marlene. I asked Kowalski to be brief with everyone," he said without making eye contact. "I'm improving, but that's all I feel comfortable saying."

Marlene pressed her lips together and looked down. "I can respect that," she said quietly.

Skipper looked at her. "It's nothing personal, Marlene, it's just—"

"I know," Marlene broke in, looking up with an understanding smile. "You can tell me when you're ready."

Skipper smiled uncomfortably. "Thanks, Marlene," he said quietly.

"Hey, guys!"

Skipper and Marlene turned at Private's voice as he dropped in from the hatch. Rico and Kowalski dropped in after him.

"Hey, boys. How did the mission go?" Skipper asked with a smile.

"Very well," Kowalski answered with a smile. "We would've been here sooner, but some of the others wanted to know about you. I told them you were improving considerably."

Skipper sighed. "Yeah, I kind of miss seeing them every day," he admitted.

"Then why don't you go out for a while?" Marlene suggested, perking up, earning her an alarmed look from Kowalski, Rico, and Private as Skipper stiffened. "It would be great! Everyone's been worried about you, and you probably need some fresh air—"

"Marlene," Kowalski interrupted sharply.

Marlene furrowed her brow. "What, I was just suggest—" She stopped short when she turned to Skipper to see him staring at his legs with all of his upper body muscles tensed. She looked down, realizing her mistake. "I'm sorry, I didn't think—"

"It's okay, Marlene," Kowalski cut in as he walked toward her. "Come on, I'll walk you to your habitat," he said, resting a flipper on her shoulders.

Once they were outside, Marlene stopped and turned to him.

"Kowalski, you know I didn't mean—"

"Yes, Marlene, I know. Skipper knows it, too, I'm sure. Don't fret over it too much. It's just a pride thing," he said as he started walking again. Marlene followed. "He's worried that everyone will see him differently if they saw him in the wheelchair. He's even gone over paranoid scenarios with me for what might happen if he left the habitat. Like, what if he fell out of it, or what if someone asks him to show them his progress in therapy? I just decided it'd be better not to force anything, to just let him decide when he's ready. You understand," he said, stopping in front of her habitat.

Marlene nodded. "Of course, I promise I won't bring it up anymore," she vowed.

Kowalski patted her shoulder with a warm smile. "I really do appreciate you keeping Skipper company while we take care of things. I'm sure Skipper does, too."

Marlene forced a smile. "No problem."

— § —

"Skipper, would you mind coming into my lab for a moment?" Kowalski asked from his lab door.

Skipper wheeled himself away from the card game he was playing with Private.

"I thought our next session wasn't for another hour," he said curiously.

"Not for therapy," Kowalski said, "for something else."

Skipper cocked his brow and turned to Private. "No cheating while I'm gone, now," he said with a suspicious grin as he laid his cards face-down on the table.

Private laid his cards down and saluted. "On my word as a penguin," he replied, smiling.

Skipper wheeled himself in the lab and Kowalski shut the door behind him. "So, what's going on?" he asked, eyeing something large that was covered with a sheet skeptically.

"You know how I've been working on something in here quite frequently?" Kowalski asked, heading over to the mystery object.

"Yes, why?" Skipper asked, following him.

"I present to you, our very own, penguin-sized Positron Emission Tomography machine!" Kowalski said, pulling off the sheet. "With it, I can take a PET scan of your brain, and I can track the activity in your motor cortex. I say once every month."

"Wow, Kowalski, I'm impressed. Why a whole month, though?" Skipper asked.

"Well, I thought of doing it by week, but I figured we'd see more of an improvement if we went by month," Kowalski explained. "Here, I'll show you how it works."

Skipper followed Kowalski to a pair of screens behind a glass window in the corner of the room.

"When you go in, I'll turn it on and adjust the feed to focus on your motor cortex. An image of your brain will appear on these screens and different colors will represent your brain activity. I can even make a recording so you can watch it afterward," Kowalski explained.

"What exactly will we be looking for?" Skipper asked as he admired the work Kowalski put into making the PET machine.

"Well, in simpler terms, the scan will make your brain glow certain colors wherever there is activity. I'll show you where to look when we get the scan."

"Well, are we gonna test it out now, or . . .?"

"No, actually," Kowalski answered, leaning back on the control panel. "I figure we'll do it tomorrow right before breakfast. The test will be more accurate with a calm mind, before doing anything stimulating, and while having not eaten for at least four hours."

"Okay, that sounds simple enough. How long will it take?" Skipper asked, turning around and wheeling himself around the machine.

"Oh, between twenty minutes to half an hour," Kowalski answered.

"Are there any side effects?" Skipper asked, looking at him through the doughnut-shaped hole in the machine that had a flat board going through it that he would have to lay on the following morning.

"Nope. You can go back to doing whatever you want afterward," Kowalski said with a smile.

Skipper wheeled himself back around to him. "You really put a lot of work into this, didn't you?" he asked incredulously.

"That I did," Kowalski answered smugly, standing a little taller.

Skipper smiled. "I commend and salute you, soldier," he said, holding his flipper to his forehead, relaxing after Kowalski mirrored him.

"It is an honor, sir," he replied.

A moment of silence passed before Kowalski continued.

"It's good to have you back, Skipper."

— § —

"Rico, I'd like to speak to you," Kowalski called the following day from his lab.

Rico hesitated and asked him 'what about?' in a string of gibberish. Kowalski ordered him to 'just come in here' and Rico obeyed with a sigh. When the door to the lab closed them in, Kowalski gestured for him to follow him to the back of his lab.

"I did Skipper's PET scan this morning. In addition to testing Skipper's motor cortex, I decided to test his mind emotionally without his knowledge just through some basic conversation. I wanted you to see the results," Kowalski explained as he led him behind the glass wall to the PET control panel.

"Why?" Rico grunted.

"Just listen," Kowalski commanded. Rico eyed him skeptically and turned toward the screens as Kowalski opened up August's report folder and pulled up a recording of Skipper's brain activity from the right side view. "This is a recording of when we discussed the missions we've been going on. See this patch of yellow here with the tiniest bit of red?" he asked, pointing to an area in the frontal lobe of Skipper's brain. "That's good. It's a sign of positive brain activity, meaning he was genuinely happy and/or proud of our successes."

Kowalski switched to another recording. "This is when we discussed the accident and its effects. See how it spreads a bit in this area and turns a light shade of green around the edges? This is the brain in transient sadness, meaning the events made him feel depressed, although something he can live with," he explained.

Rico nodded. "So . . . what?" he asked, trying to figure out Kowalski's point in telling him all this.

"For the next recording, I'm going to play some audio synced with it. Keep in mind the difference between brain activity during transient happiness, as opposed to transient sadness as it plays," Kowalski said giving him a serious stare as he hit play.

"_So, how is it going with Marlene's visits? I hear you're getting creamed in chess. Out of practice much?"_ said Kowalski's voice. Skipper's brain expressed the transient happiness Kowalski had shown before.

"_Yeah, that's what she wants you to think. I'm totally letting her win,"_ Skipper's voice said.

"_Sure you are,"_ Kowalski's voice teased. "_Private's real proud of you, you know. Other than your condition, you seem to be getting back to your old self."_

Skipper's brain continued to glow in a spot of yellow in the frontal lobe.

"_Yeah. I think we're getting a little closer. And I have to say, I'm proud of the way he's coming along, too."_

All of the sudden, Skipper's brain activity shifted to transient sadness, although this area of yellow and green was a bit larger than what had appeared during the discussion of the accident.

"_I just wish Rico would talk to me. I feel just awful about what I put him through. The last thing I ever wanted was for anyone to get hurt. I wish I would've thought about someone other than myself. I'd give anything to take it all back, even—even my ability to walk. Rico's my brother, and that means more to me than anything. I want to tell him that, but . . . I don't know how much good it will do. Sometimes I think he'll never forgive me."_

Kowalski paused the recording on one screen and brought up a screenshot of the PET scan from the accident discussion.

"See there?" he said, gesturing to the images. "Skipper is experiencing more depression from you than even his accident, if his confession wasn't enough to clarify that."

Rico stared at the computer screens and remained silent.

"Look, Rico, my goal here isn't to make you feel bad or to force you to feel things you aren't ready to feel. But I do want you to at least reconsider things. Skipper may not have been in the right in much of what he did those first few weeks, but you need to understand Skipper's side of it. And you need to understand that he's sorry. We've all been through a lot together, don't let this one obstacle be what makes all the others irrelevant," Kowalski said before brushing past him without waiting for a response.

Rico looked at the PET scans of Skipper's brain for a moment longer, and then he turned his head to watch Kowalski leave just as he shut the lab door behind him.

— § —

**Note:** All the information about the PET scans was found through online research. If you know any information to be false, let me know, and if it doesn't interfere with the story, I'll likely correct it.


	5. Acceptance

"Fifteen . . . sixteen . . . seventeen . . . eighteen . . . nineteen . . . twenty," Kowalski counted as Skipper executed a series of pull-ups. Skipper dropped down into the wheelchair beneath him and worked the soreness from his muscles.

"Whew! Wow, I've been worrying about my legs so much, I've been neglecting my biceps," he said, wiping sweat from his brow and reaching for a drink of water on a nearby table.

"Appears so, but twenty is good. Maybe you'll do twenty-five tomorrow," Kowalski said with a smile. Skipper drank down the entire cup and set it down with a sigh.

"Maybe. When's dinner coming? I've worked up an appetite," Skipper said, patting his empty stomach.

"Should be soon. Come on, let's see what the others are up to," Kowalski suggested, heading for the lab door with Skipper following behind.

When they entered the mainroom, Private was planted in front of the television watching _The Lunacorns_. He turned his head at the sound of the tumblers turning in the door.

"Hey, guys," Private called. "How did the workout go?"

"Just fine, young Private," Skipper answered. "Where's Rico?"

"Oh, he's up waiting for Alice to deliver dinner. He's been gone for about half an hour now," Private told them.

"I'll go and see what's keeping him," Kowalski offered, making his way for the hatch.

Skipper looked back to Private, who had returned his attention to the _Lunacorns_. With a silent sigh and a roll of his eyes, although with a light smile, he turned toward the HQ's kitchen area to find some plates to set the table. Pulling four from the cabinet and setting them on his lap, he started to wheel himself to the table when Kowalski dropped back through the hatch with a bundle of cloth. Rico dropped in behind him with another.

"Whatcha got there?" Skipper asked, setting a plate on the table. "Where's the fish?"

"We have a surprise for you," Kowalski answered with a smile. Skipper set a third plate on the table as Private turned off his television program to join them.

"Surprise?" Skipper said curiously.

Kowalski laid the bundle of cloth on the center of the table and opened it.

"Hey, sushi," Skipper said as his face lit up with delight.

"Not just any sushi. _Bluefin tuna_ sushi, _Chu-toro_ style, your favorite," Kowalski presented with a smile.

Skipper looked from the sushi to Kowalski. "Well, I don't know what to say. Thank you, Kowalski."

"Don't thank me," Kowalski said, stepping aside to reveal Rico standing behind him with the second bundle of sushi. "He drove the car to that new sushi place a few blocks down to get it."

Skipper looked at Rico in surprise, and he looked back with an unreadable expression. He stepped forward and laid the sushi on the table. Then he turned to him.

"As somewhat of a reward for your progress," he told him through his usual string of gibberish. Then he looked down at the floor. "Also as a sorry," he added softly.

Skipper swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "Thank you, Rico," he said finally. "And it is I who should be sorry."

Rico and Skipper locked eye contact for a moment and each of them brought themselves to a small, forgiving smile.

"Private!" Kowalski snapped, catching their attention.

Private looked innocently between each of them and held up his half-eaten piece of sushi. "What?" he cried. "I was hungry!"

— § —

"Something wrong, Skipper?" Private asked his leader, who was sipping on some coffee while staring out of the window. He turned to him.

"Oh, I'm just thinking," he told him. "So, there's a new sushi joint, hm?" he asked, looking down into his coffee.

"Yes, they have good sushi, don't you think?" Private asked with a smile.

"Oh, yeah," Skipper agreed, "it was fantastic. I was just wondering . . . what else has been going on? Y'know, while I've been in here," he asked without making eye contact.

Private's smile faded. "Oh, nothing much. Their coming out with a new _Pirates of the Bahamas_ movie in November. McSlade started a _Save the Park!_ campaign, and it seems to be going well. The park seems much cleaner," he told him.

Skipper nodded. "How 'bout the others? The zoosters, I mean," he asked, still carefully examining his coffee.

"Just carrying on about their daily lives, worrying about you, wondering how you're doing," Private said.

Skipper nodded again, but didn't respond. After a few moments, he took a breath and sighed.

"Y'know, I never did ask how the Fourth of July went. In my depression, I'd forgotten all about it," he said, swirling the cooling drink around the mug.

"Oh, it um, didn't go too well, if you want the truth. Everyone tried to celebrate, but it just wasn't the same without you. Plus, knowing the results of the—accident," Private told him, slightly choking on that last word.

Skipper looked at him, and then he looked back out the window. Oddly, he smiled a moment later.

"You remember what I said that day on July first?" he asked as his smile turned into a mysterious grin. "Before we left the HQ? Do you remember?"

Private thought back. "Yes, something about something we could do after we caught the fish truck," he answered.

Skipper looked at him. "Yeah. Take the car out for a spin," he said with excitement dancing in his eyes at the memory. Private perked up in recollection. "With fireworks attached to the back," they finished together.

"As a test to see how it'd look for Independence Day," Skipper added with a laugh. "It's funny how you can take things for granted without even realizing it," he said, looking at his legs.

Private examined him curiously. "What are you thinking, Skipper?"

Skipper smiled. "About when you called me a yellow-bellied coward last month," he answered as if it were a good thing.

Private became defensive. "Skipper, I'm so sorry! I—"

"No, Private. You were absolutely right then. In fact, you're still right," Skipper cut in, still smiling.

"What do you mean, Skipper?" Private asked with his brow crinkling with growing confusion and curiosity.

"What I mean is that while I've been cooped up in this little HQ, life has just been going on its way without me out there," Skipper explained.

"Skipper, you're not saying that you—"

"Yes, Private. As a matter of fact, I am. I think it's high time that I—stopped hiding," Skipper said, looking back down to his legs.

Private found himself speechless.

"I'm thinking we'll do it in the morning, with the sun rising over New York," Skipper said, staring off into space with a calm look in his eye, still smiling. "Are the leaves changing for autumn yet?" he asked, looking back to Private. Private opened his beak to answer, but ended up silently nodding his head instead. Skipper looked back out the window. "Even better," he said softly.

Private watched him for a moment longer, and then turned his head to Kowalski and Rico across the room, who had tuned into the conversation a few minutes ago. All of them came to the same realization. The smile on Skipper's face wasn't calm, humorous, or even happiness.

It was acceptance.


	6. Welcome Back!

"No, Mort! You are so stupid-y! You can not just hop right in front of me like that when I am shaking my money-maker!" Julien snapped at the small lemur.

"But I wanted to shake my money-maker, too!" Mort protested.

"No! You do not have a money-maker! Only the king has the maker of the money," Julien insisted as he dusted off his crown. "Also, I—"

"King Julien!" Maurice interrupted from the sidelines.

"Maurice!" Julien said angrily. "How dare you interrupt me when I am ranting!"

"Just _look_!" Maurice said, pointing to the penguins' habitat across the way.

Julien followed his finger and instantly, his expression relaxed and his ears drooped.

On the penguins' island, Private spotted Kowalski from above as Rico spotted him from below, inside the HQ, as Kowalski pulled Skipper up and out of the hatch on a rope with a series of pulleys, with four ropes branching off at the end secured to four corners of a . . .

"Wheelchair," Maurice said under his breath. "When Marlene told us that he was in a wheelchair, I never doubted it, but seeing it is just . . ."

"Unbelievable," Julien finished for him.

"How long has it been since we saw him last?" Maurice asked slowly.

"Well," Julien started, "the accident was on . . .?"

"July the first," Maurice answered.

"And today is . . .?"

"August the twenty-second," Maurice answered slowly.

"Is the bossy penguin all better, King Julien?" Mort piped up.

Gradually, Julien smiled and he coughed out an overjoyed laugh.

"I don't know, but I don't care!" Julien announced, jumping down from his rock. "Come, my loyal subjects! Let us initiate the warmest of welcomings!" he said, rushing toward the penguins' habitat.

"Okay, that wasn't so bad, I guess," Skipper said as the boys settled him on the island and detached the ropes. He took a deep breath of fresh air that ended up stinging his lungs after going so long without it, but he found himself liking how it felt.

"No, it seems to have gone quite well. Now we just need to get you from here to the other side of the pool," Kowalski replied.

"Skipper!"

The penguins turned their attention to Julien as he jumped over the side of the habitat and landed on their island with Maurice and Mort lagging behind. Julien threw his arms around Skipper, causing his wheelchair to roll back a few inches.

"Skipper, you have no idea how much that I—" He caught himself and let go, dusting himself off. "I mean, _Mort_ missed you. Right, Mort?"

"Okay!" Mort replied with a smile.

"Yes, he insisted on coming over when he saw you," Julien said, examining his paw.

Skipper glanced at the team with a humorous smile. "Well, I guess I have to admit, I missed _Mort_ too," he said, cocking an inquisitive brow.

"Hey, what about me?!" Julien blurted, turning sharply at him. After realizing all eyes had fallen on him, he relaxed and crossed his arms, looking at the ground. "You know, not that I care, or anything."

Maurice rolled his eyes behind them as Skipper did the same, although with a smile.

"Well, Ringtail, admittedly, I guess deep, deep, _deep_ down, I did miss you just a _little_ bit," he said, shifting awkwardly in his wheelchair.

Julien's ears drooped and he looked at him. "Really?" he asked softly. Without waiting for an answer, he flung his arms around him again. "I missed you just a little tiny bit, too, buddy!"

Skipper coughed. "Ringtail—I can't—I can't breathe," he rasped.

"What's going on over here?"

Julien let go and everyone turned to the sound of Marlene's voice as she hopped onto the penguins' island with a disbelieving stare. An awkward silence passed before Skipper wheeled himself into view from behind the lemurs and the team. Marlene's eyes widened in shock and her jaw dropped open when she saw him.

"We were all just . . . getting some fresh air," he said with a warm smile.

Marlene assessed him for a moment and a smile crossed over her face.

"Are you serious?" she asked incredulously.

"Affirmative," Skipper said with a nod.

Marlene laughed and started to back away with an excited hop in her step.

"I—I have to tell the others!" she said as she leapt into the pool and climbed over the wall. You could hear her in the near distance announcing that "Skipper's back!" to everyone in the zoo.

Skipper turned his head toward Kowalski, although he didn't look him in the eye. "She's been waiting for this, hasn't she?" he asked with a hint of guilt in his voice.

Kowalski smiled and sighed. "No, Skipper. Everyone has," he answered softly.

"Yes!" Julien agreed. "And do you know what this calls for? A celebration!" he announced, turning to Maurice.

Skipper straightened in his wheelchair. "Actually, Ringtail, that won't be n—"

"Maurice, we're going to need music, lights, snacks, a guest list, and a party location," Julien said, listing the orders on his fingers. "Ooh! And smoothies, too!"

"On it, your highness!" Maurice said, turning on his heel and hurrying off with Mort.

"Yay, celebration!" Mort cried as they left.

Skipper wheeled himself around to Julien's front. "Ringtail, seriously, you don't need to—"

"—hold back?" Julien cut in. "No worries on that one, buddy! I will be throwing you the best-est, most biggest party ever!" he said before he scampered off.

Skipper smacked his forehead. "Is it too late to go back inside?" he whined.

Kowalski chuckled and patted his back as he came around to his side. "Come now, Skipper, everyone wants to see you. It's been over a month, and they really miss you. Surely, you won't let Julien be the reason you go back into hiding," he reasoned.

Skipper sighed. "Okay, fine. But only if you agree to tamper with the music."

"Done," Kowalski agreed without hesitation.

Skipper laughed and sighed as he rolled his head back. "It really has been over a month, hasn't it?" he asked, looking at the sky.

Kowalski looked down. "Affirmative, I'm afraid," he answered softly.

Skipper looked at him. "Do you think they'll see me differently?" he asked quietly.

Kowalski thought for a moment and smiled. "I think they'll see you just as they saw you before," he said. "A good friend."

— § —

That evening started unexpectedly well.

News had buzzed through the zoo faster than time could catch up. Everyone talked as if Skipper hadn't even been in the zoo at all. Most showed up at the Zoovenir Shop long before Julien had scheduled the party. Conversation had grown concerning Skipper's sudden reappearance. It had come seemingly out of nowhere, without warning or even some sort of sign. How long had he been considering it? Didn't Marlene say he was in a wheelchair?

Finally, the tension in the room had grown to its maximum as the clock ticked closer to five o'clock, the hour the party was meant to begin, therefore, the hour Skipper was supposed to arrive. Maurice and Mort had hurried off to retrieve more snacks and fruit for the smoothies since much of the supply they had brought earlier had disappeared due to anxious munching by the guests.

"Sh! Everyone quiet down!" Mason called from the window in a hushed whisper. Everyone turned his way and their voices died down. "They're coming! Everyone act natural!"

"Are you nervous?" Kowalski asked Skipper as he and the team walked beside him to the Zoovenir Shop.

"A little," Skipper answered as he glanced at one of the Shop's windows to see Mason duck out of sight. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I'm sure," Kowalski assured him. "Just be yourself. The wheelchair may change your appearance, but it will never change who you are."

Skipper slowed to a stop and the team stood around him. "I just feel like I'm going to be meeting them for the first time again. I don't know if I can face that. I see old and crippled people coming to the zoo all the time. People look at them like they're—like they're helpless," he explained, looking at his legs.

"Not _everyone_ looks at them that way, Skipper," Kowalski said. "You only think they do because you're afraid that's how everyone will see you. Skipper, you're going to have to face them sooner or later. They've been waiting to see you all day. If you back out now, they'll be so disappointed. I assure you, you're just overthinking it."

Skipper breathed heavily. "What if you're wrong?" he asked slowly.

Kowalski smiled. "I'm not," he answered confidently.

Skipper looked at him reluctantly. Then he cast a glance over Rico and Private, who smiled with encouragement. Skipper took a deep breath and sighed.

"We're behind you, no matter what," Private assured him, patting him on the back reassuringly.

"I know," Skipper said, straightening himself. "I guess we should get going," he added as he started forward with his heart racing.

"There's the Skipper I know," Kowalski said, following behind with the rest of the team.

The door to the Shop was opened just a crack, so Private and Rico pushed it open as Skipper slowly wheeled himself over the threshold with Kowalski following behind.

The zoosters all looked at Skipper in an obvious over-dramatic surprise, almost as if they hadn't suspected his showing up at all. However, despite their attempted subtlety, their heartfelt greetings were sincere. Questions came from all directions: how have you been holding up for the past month? what's been going on in the HQ? we heard you were taking physical therapy, how's that going? what made you finally decide to come out?

Skipper gladly took his time to thoughtfully answer each of their questions. It was a difficult thing to accept—even just the possibility of never walking again—and even still is sometimes. But he'd battled far worse in the past, and he wasn't going to let this get him down. He and the team had actually been doing well in the HQ. Kowalski helped him with his therapy each day, he and Private had had much time to talk about missions and how all the others were doing, and Rico would bring down meals and do any maintenance needing to be done. He'd spent most of his time playing cards with Private or working on his therapy on his own even after Kowalski had finished with him. Of course, Marlene had also been a big help when the boys had to take care of the bigger missions.

Speaking of therapy, it's been going well. Although, he did have to be truthful. Chances of him walking anytime soon were unlikely. It would probably be about a year before he even got to stand. Even with the unfortunate news, the confident way Skipper informed them made the news seem more relieving. Better late than never, right?

He decided to come out when he finally truly accepted everything that had happened to him. It was a tough process. First, he had to realize that the situation had affected all of them. After he started therapy, the extent of his injuries became more real. He just wasn't ready to show off his disability to everyone he knew. Finally, he realized that hiding in a box until he recovered was ridiculous considering how long that would take. He'd already missed so much, and he couldn't bear to miss months on end worth of life going on in the zoo and New York without him.

"Well, we couldn't imagine life going on without you, either, Skipper," Marlene commented once Skipper had finished his story. The others nodded in agreement.

Julien hopped to the center of the floor. "And I cannot be imagining life going on without this party getting started! Hit it, Maurice!" he commanded his right-hand man. A moment later, the Shop was filled with electronic dance music as the official signal for the party's beginning.

Skipper turned to Kowalski and mumbled under his breath, "About that deal . . .?"

Kowalski laughed. "A deal is a deal. I'll see what I can do," he said as he tried to discreetly make his way over to the boom box.

The next couple hours consisted of laughs, long conversations, eating snacks and drinking smoothies, and many more questions in which the answers would ultimately lead to more questions. Julien and Maurice argued over why the boom box had mysteriously started playing nothing but KLOU Radio. Skipper decided to try and ignore when someone tried and failed not to look at his wheelchair or his legs. He told himself that if he could get used to it, so could they.

Skipper eventually found himself happy with his decision to stop hiding. He even laughed at himself for ever thinking that his friends would ever see him for anyone but who he is. Although the sympathy he did catch in some of their gazes did pinch incessantly at his gut, he tried not to let that bother him either. Nitpicking each of their absentminded insensitivities would only ruin the point of dragging his tail feathers over there in the first place.

After a while of excitement, the mood of the evening shifted for the worst.

There was a round of laughs, and a gasp was heard from atop the counter. Someone shouted, "_Maurice is choking!"_ and everyone started scrambling forward to try to figure some way to help. Skipper's first instinct was to jump into action, but he was quickly reminded of his restraint. But that didn't stop him from leaping—give or take the actual _leap_—into action and rolling himself around the other animals and nearly left skid marks as he rounded the counter where Alice kept the wooden plank she'd use to get into their habitat. He pulled it out from behind the counter and with a little bit of effort, he managed to prop it up on the edge.

Skipper rolled backward to gain some momentum and shot straight toward the plank, and climbed upward until he rolled onto the countertop . . . just as someone handed Maurice a glass of water and Kowalski patted his back.

"Are you all right, Maurice? You're lucky we were here. A few more seconds, and you might have lost consciousness," Kowalski said as Rico and Private cleaned up the fruit Maurice had expelled from his esophagus when Kowalski gave him the Heimlich.

Skipper looked from Kowalski and Maurice to the other zoo animals, who had all gathered around the counter to see if Maurice was okay. A couple of them noticed Skipper and whispered something to one another.

"Thanks, Kowalski," Maurice said hoarsely. He took another sip of water and noticed Skipper behind them. "Oh, I'm sorry, Skipper. I didn't mean to interrupt everything."

Everyone turned to look at him and Skipper cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, everyone, but, uh . . . I'm really tired. I think I'll go on back to HQ," he said as he slowly turned and rolled back down the plank and started out the door.

Julien trotted up next to him. "Wait! Are you sure? We have not even had the boogie dance-off, yet! It's gonna be great," he tempted with a smile.

Skipper didn't halt his departure as he responded. "Thanks, Ringtail," he said without making eye contact, "but I really want to get some rest. I'm sorry."

The other animals watched him leave. An awkward silence passed through the room before Kowalski stepped forward.

"My—apologies, everyone. You all just—continue the party and we'll be on our way," Kowalski said before ushering the boys out the Zoovenir Shop.

"Skipper!" Kowalski called as he and the rest of the team jogged to catch up with him.

Skipper acted as if he didn't hear him and tried to wheel away faster. The team leapt onto their bellies and slid until they'd passed him and blocked his path.

"Skipper," Private said, getting to his feet. "What's the matter? Why the sudden retreat?"

Skipper turned his head away, refusing eye contact. "I'm just tired, Private. I want to go to bed," he insisted.

"Skipper, did someone say something to you?" Kowalski asked. "Did they make a comment that upset you?"

Skipper tried to wheel around them, but they blocked his path again. "Kowalski, please, I don't want to talk about it. Let me pass," he demanded.

"Skipper, I don't understand. You seemed to be having such a nice time, seeing everyone again. What happened—?"

"You happened!" Skipper blurted, taking the team aback.

"Me?" Kowalski said with a disbelieving shake of his head. "What did—?"

Skipper sighed heavily and put his face in his flipper, leaning on the armrest of the wheelchair by his elbow.

"I didn't mean that," he said softly. Anyone who didn't know Skipper well wouldn't be able to tell he was close to tears. But the team knew. "I just . . ." he said into his flipper, "when Maurice choked, I . . . I was just so slow. You said it yourself, Kowalski. A few more seconds and he would've lost consciousness. If it'd just been me and Maurice in there, I don't think I would've been able to save him. It'd be pretty hard to give the Heimlich sitting in this blasted chair, anyway. I just can't help but wonder if something's going to happen before I get better, and I'll be the only one who can do anything. Except that I . . . I can't."

The team exchanged a glance.

"Skipper," Kowalski started, "I understand how you feel, but—"

"How could you _possibly_ understand how I feel, Kowalski?" Skipper asked, finally turning to look at him.

Kowalski locked eyes with him. "Nineteen years ago, Operation: Getaway Gurney. I was fatally wounded and barely hanging on, and you had to fight with all you had to get us out of enemy territory. I was just hanging on to consciousness, but I still remember that day as if it were yesterday. You received near-fatal head trauma, a deep gash on your side, and a black eye the size of a grapefruit," he said through a hard stare. Skipper dropped his gaze and said nothing. "No matter what was thrown at you, you pushed through. As weakened as I was, no amount of determination to jump out of that beaten up luggage cart to come to your aid would've done any good, because I couldn't.

"When I finally woke up the next morning, you'd tied a ripped piece of cloth from your tent around your waist, yet blood still made its way through. You faltered through every step as if you were ready to pass out for a whole week. Yet you resisted any urge to rest until you stabilized me, no matter how much I begged.

"Fourteen years ago, Operation: Sticky Situation. You were in capture of the enemy. They toyed with Rico and me, sending video calls to us. Showed us what sort of torture you had endured. Sometimes did it while we were still on the call. We wanted no more than to stop them, but how could we until we figured out where they were keeping you?

"Twelve years ago, when we found Private. He was only seven, and he'd lost his parents. He was all alone. We took him in, not fully sure what we could do with such a young penguin. Yet, somehow he took a liking to you, for some reason." Kowalski tried to remain serious but found himself unresistant to a smile at the memory. "We had to leave him alone while we dealt with a mission. We came back, all of us beaten and exhausted. Private pestered us about what had happened. He wanted to make us all feel better, but he didn't know how. So, he just did what he did know. He offered to cleanse our wounds every ten minutes, brought us tea without our asking, tried to chop up our fish into bite-sized pieces so we wouldn't choke." Kowalski started to chuckle and sideways glanced at Private, who was smiling bashfully.

"Rico ended up growling at me not to touch his lunch," Private commented.

Kowalski's smile faded again. "Skipper, I will agree that there are certain aspects of your situation that we will never fully understand without experiencing it firsthand. But there still _is_ a small part of each of us that understand what you're going through, that understand what it's like to feel as if you've lost all control. You have to trust us, Skipper. I know you feel like you're nothing if you can't save the day, but until you get walking again, there isn't anything you can do about it. You need to accept that you can't do everything—that you need help. Don't put yourself down because of things you can't change."

Skipper remained silent before he closed his eyes and sighed. "Since when did you get so good with words, Kowalski?" he asked softly, almost smiling.

Kowalski thought for a moment. "We're brothers, Skipper. I don't have to be good with words."

— § —

**Note:** KLOU Radio (103.3) is a channel that plays the biggest hits from the sixties through the nineties. The reason I chose this particular channel is because, in _Madagascar 2_ and _3_, the only songs Skipper (and the other penguins as well) seemed to enjoy were the ones they put in the radio, including _More Than A Feeling_ by Boston from 1976 and _Any way You Want It_ by Journey from 1980. I thought it was okay to assume they at least enjoy some of the oldies.


	7. What Can't I Do

_Eight Months Later_

Kowalski woke with a yawn and hopped down from the top bunk. He slugged his way over to the coffee machine to start Skipper's brew when he realized it'd already been made. Suddenly alert, he turned to see Skipper's bunk empty and a faint light coming from under his lab door. He gently pushed it open and peered in.

Skipper was facing away from him at the parallel bars Rico had built for him when he'd finally stood up from his wheelchair two weeks ago. So far, he hadn't been able to do much but stand and pivot, but Skipper kept swearing he could feel in his gut that soon he'd be able to start taking little steps.

Skipper stood between the bars in place, hanging tightly to the railing and practiced shifting his weight from one foot onto the other, although his legs buckled each time and he had to grip the railing tighter. Luckily, his flippers barely trembled with strain against his weight. _Those pull ups seem to have done the trick, _Kowalski thought. He wondered how he didn't get dizzy. Not only is this one of the few times Skipper stayed up on his feet for long periods of time in months, slowly swaying back and forth against the railings should cause motion-sickness as well as exertion.

"Skipper, I told you not to do this without someone being with you. If you fell, what would you do?" Kowalski said as he entered and came around the side of the parallel bars where he could see his face.

Skipper shuffled back a step and sat back in his wheelchair. "Sorry, Kowalski. You just looked like you were sleeping so well, and I just got a little anxious to do therapy this morning. I think I might be getting close to taking actual steps!" he said, wheeling toward Kowalski. "Did you see me? I'm already doing better than I did last week!" He grabbed Kowalski's shoulders. "Did you see it?" he asked excitedly, shaking Kowalski back and forth.

Kowalski laughed and nodded. "Yes, yes, Skipper, I saw it!" he answered, pushing out of his grasp.

Skipper looked back toward the door. "Are the others up yet?" he asked anxiously.

"I don't think so. They were still sleeping when I realized you were gone," Kowalski answered.

"Well, wake 'em up! I have a blasted report, here! Rico! Private!" he called as he wheeled his way out of the lab.

Kowalski laughed. He thought about all the doubts Skipper had when they'd first started therapy. Even just a few months ago, Skipper had become frustrated with just lifting his legs with the weights strapped to them. They'd gotten into a strenuous argument.

"I'm sick and tired of waiting around for the strength in my legs to build up. It didn't take this long the first time!" Skipper had said as he pulled the weights off his legs and tossed them aside.

"You didn't have a brain injury the first time, either, Skipper," Kowalski had reasoned. Skipper just rolled his eyes.

"And what makes you think that it's just a stupid brain injury? What if my muscles just don't work anymore?" Skipper had replied.

"Skipper, if your muscles didn't work, then you wouldn't have made this much progress. You could be standing by Spring!" Kowalski told him.

"_Could_ be, Kowalski! That's the problem!" Skipper said as he tried to move past him, but Kowalski shoved his pencil in the spokes of the wheel and Skipper was brought to an abrupt stop. "Hey!" he protested.

Kowalski moved in front of him and forced him into eye contact. "I told you this from day one, Skipper. You _have_ to have patience. The brain is the most complicated part in the whole body, _any_ body! Even science hasn't figured out all there is to it! You need to trust me, Skipper. If you give up now, you probably _will_ never walk again. But if you stick to it, I promise you you'll make it. You do trust me, don't you?" he asked with serious, pleading eyes.

Skipper was silent for a moment and looked down. "Yes, Kowalski. I trust you. I'm just in a hurry to get better is all," he said to his feet.

Kowalski sighed sympathetically. "You'll get there before you know it, Skipper."

Kowalski couldn't help but smile at how far Skipper had come even from that one moment of weakness that few months ago. He could hear Skipper talking to Rico and Private in the next room and laughed. He sounded like a schoolboy telling his parents he'd just scored his first home run. In a way, he did.

Christmas had gone surprisingly well. It didn't take nearly as much convincing as they'd thought it'd take to get Skipper to join the Kidsmas party. On the night of December 24th, Rico had turned Skipper's wheelchair into a sled (with a rocket-propeller as his own personal touch) and Skipper took the children on a joyride around Central Park. Kowalski almost suspected Skipper had more fun than the children. He didn't do so well in the snowball fight, since his blind spots were anywhere behind him when it came to how slowly the wheelchair turned, but Skipper just laughed and carried on as if it made no difference in the world. In his mind, it might not have.

His wheelchair (sledchair?) had actually become ideal in his role as the Santa. While everyone else carried about their Kidsmas activities, Skipper just made one large round through the zoo to allow the children to sit on his lap. Kowalski didn't tell Skipper this, but Momma Duck had even pulled him aside and told him that she barely even recognized Skipper. Not because of the wheelchair, but because of his attitude. Who was this sweet, fun-loving penguin, and what did he do to the "iron-hearted, get-in-line" commando Skipper? Kowalski just laughed and said that he was always there, deep down. Something just needed to pull him out.

New Year's was just as much a success. The animals of Central Park all gathered together on the clock tower to watch the ball drop—with the exceptions of the larger animals, of course—and with the assistance of Burt, Skipper was able to get a seat up there with them. A possum child had hopped in his lap and Momma Duck's ducklings perched themselves on his head. Kowalski held his watch at the ready and they'd all counted down from twenty as the ball dropped promptly on zero. Fireworks erupted in the air and Skipper laughed and cheered with the children. Everyone glowed a different color every couple of seconds as different fireworks exploded above.

A month later, just when everyone thought Skipper couldn't surprise them more, he _really_ shocked them.

February 14th, 2015, Skipper actually _insisted_ on spreading the love. Of course, since he _is_ Skipper, he didn't go the most romantic way in celebrating, but it was the thought, after all. He went around the zoo and gave each zooster a military salute and a hearty "Happy Valentine's Day!" If that wasn't enough, he told everyone one major thing he liked about them. Even _Julien_. Of course, it was something along the lines of "even though I hate you, if you were about to be hit by a bus, I'd probably save you," it was still something of a shock to everyone. Despite, Julien still ate it up like a plate of mangoes and gave his friend/enemy/who-knows a hug.

Today was March 6th, 2015, exactly eight months and five days since Skipper's accident. According to his PET scans, his inner motor cortex was very gradually becoming stronger with activity with each month. Kowalski was proud of him. As was everyone else. The experience had not only changed Skipper, it had changed everyone else. Kowalski didn't know if anyone else noticed it, but he did. While Skipper became more appreciative of the little things, everyone else became true believers.

Miracles really did happen.

— § —

Skipper pushed himself from the wheelchair while Kowalski and Rico helped him balance himself. He wobbled a little bit, and while he still seemed a bit shaky, he was standing nonetheless. Private handed forward the forearm crutches and Skipper fitted his flippers into them and found his center of gravity. Kowalski and Rico gradually released their grip and stepped back.

"How do they feel?" Kowalski asked.

Skipper shifted his weight a little bit. "They seem okay. Let me try to walk a little," he answered. The team stepped out of the way and Skipper brought his left crutch forward and planted it on the ground, his right foot straggling behind it. He mirrored the motion, and then brought his left crutch and right foot forward again, and again with his right crutch and left foot. Private hurried around behind him and started following him with the wheelchair in case he needed to sit down.

"You're doing great, Skipper!" Kowalski encouraged.

"Yeah, yeah!" Rico agreed.

Skipper started to grunt with strain and staggered, but Kowalski and Rico caught him and helped him settle back into the wheelchair.

"It's all right, Skipper! You did great!" Kowalski said, patting his back. "It's a little harder when you have a little more freedom to walk rather than just eight feet straight on those parallel bars. Just give it—"

"Time," Skipper interrupted. "Yes, I know. You've been telling me that for nine and a half months, now. Trust me, there's no way I'm having doubts now," he said with a smile.

The team smiled back.

"That's the Skipper I know!" Private said, patting his shoulder.

"He never left, young Private," Skipper replied. "He just got a little lost there in the beginning, but he's found his way now."

Private grinned. "Affirmative, sir," he agreed.

"So, what should we do now?" Kowalski asked. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving."

"Fish!" Rico grunted.

"Amen to that, Rico," Skipper said, rubbing his empty tummy. "Let's go get some grub."

— § —

It was another zoo day in May of 2015, so the boys were up entertaining the visitors while Skipper remained down in HQ, finding ways to entertain himself. Today, he'd decided to have a look through the periscope to see how the visitors were enjoying themselves.

He smiled at all of the happy guests as they threw fish to his men. In the back of his mind, he was making a mental note to nab Rico for eating some of his share. Then something in the background caught his attention.

There was a teenage boy in a wheelchair next to Marlene's habitat. He had a hard time seeing over the wall because it was so high. A woman Skipper presumed to be his mother was standing behind him, talking on a cell phone and feeding oysters to the happy otter, who didn't even notice the boy hidden behind the wall. Finally, the boy just slumped down into his wheelchair and pretended not to notice the couple of kids across the aisle making fun of him. Skipper smoldered. Then some little girl who resembled him strode up to his side and started saying something. Skipper turned and hobbled along on his crutches to the security feeds and activated the microphones.

"_. . . just don't understand what you're going through,"_ said the little girl's voice once Skipper found the right feed.

"_No one understands. I just don't know why this had to happen to me. I don't understand why I'm being punished like this. Do you think God hates me, Laura?"_ asked the little boy.

"_Of course not. I think maybe God just wants to test you or something. That's what Pastor Hemingway said, right?"_ Laura replied.

"_I don't know, Laura. I just don't get why I was the one who got hurt. That drunk driver should've gotten hurt, but he's still walking around on his merry way,"_ the little boy said. Skipper's heart dropped.

"_Yeah, walking around on his merry way in prison for life,"_ Laura replied. "_At least he's not still out there, where he could hurt other people. And didn't you say physical therapy was going well? Doesn't that count for something?"_

"_No, _Mom _said physical therapy was going well. The accident was almost a year ago, Laura. All I've been able to do is wiggle my feet a little bit. I almost picked my own foot up once, but it's still really hard,"_ the little boy answered.

"_Harold, you also have to take into account that you were laid up in a hospital bed all doped up on pain meds for, like, three and a half weeks after the accident. That probably didn't help the healing process in your brain,"_ Laura reasoned.

"_Whatever, Laura. Why don't you go see the penguins or something? I'm gonna go look around the Zoovenir Shop. At least I can actually see what's in there,"_ Harold said at the sound of wheels turning and fading.

Skipper's heart pounded in his throat. This little boy could very likely be one of the seven injured from the same accident he'd been in. Except Harold wasn't making progress as soon as he. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. With anxiety burning in his chest and smoldering down into his stomach, he hobbled over to his wheelchair and hopped in it, holding his crutches across his lap. He then rolled it through the door in the HQ and took their new secret tunnel toward the Zoovenir Shop. He stopped at the air duct leading inside and waited for the immediate area to clear before pushing himself out, replacing the grate, and quickly ducking behind a box of knick knacks.

Carefully peering around the box, he saw Harold enter the Shop and turn toward a clothing rack. Luckily, it wasn't that busy over there, so Skipper rolled his way behind a bunch a merchandise until he was within whispering distance behind Harold. Skipper picked up a stuffed polar bear and threw it at the back of Harold's head.

"Ah," Harold responded in surprise as he picked the toy from the back of his neck. He slowly but surely turned the wheelchair and looked around for the culprit when his eyes finally settled on Skipper behind a rack of brochures. His expression contorted in confusion and he was about to call for someone when Skipper shook his head violently. Harold curiously cocked an eyebrow and leaned in a little, as if trying to be sure he was really witnessing this and not hallucinating.

Skipper wheeled forward a little bit and locked the wheels on his chair. Then he planted the crutches on the floor and looked up into Harold's eyes as he watched intently. Looking around to ensure no one was coming, Skipper proceeded with pushing himself onto his wobbling feet. When he steadied himself, he walked forward a couple of shaky steps and looked at Harold. He was just sitting there with his expression a mixture of confusion and awe. Skipper locked eyes with him and gave an encouraging nod.

Harold's face relaxed into surprise and he looked at his legs. His attention was diverted when he heard his name from behind and he turned his wheelchair.

"Mom," he said when he saw her.

"There you are! I had no idea where you'd gone off to," she said with concern. Laura followed close behind.

"I said, like, three times that he was in the gift shop," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Mom, you won't believe this, this little pen—"

Harold turned back to where Skipper had been standing to find that he wasn't there anymore.

"I won't believe what?" Harold's mom urged.

Harold looked down. "Nothing. Um, yeah, when exactly did you say my next therapy session was?"

Harold's mom looked through her SmartPhone for a second.

"Next Monday at four," she answered. "Please don't say anything about cancelling it again," she pleaded, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Is there any way we could make it for, like, tomorrow or something?" Harold requested.

Harold's mom blinked. "Beg your pardon?" she asked incredulously.

"I just—I got this really weird sign. I think God was trying to tell me that I should keep trying with the therapy," Harold answered.

His mom cocked an eyebrow, but she didn't argue or question it further.

"I'll see what I can do," she said with a hopeful smile.

The Mother pushed her son out of the Zoovenir Shop with Laura following close behind. Skipper watched with a satisfied smile from behind a rack of stuffed animals.

— § —

Skipper had a hard time trying to leave the Zoovenir Shop with all of the humans around, so he didn't make it back to HQ until just before closing.

"Skipper! There you are! Where have you been?" Kowalski asked when Skipper wheeled himself in.

Skipper smiled and parked himself in front of the table. "Don't worry about it, Kowalski. I'm in the mood for some chess. You in or out?

"Um, in, I guess. Is everything all right, Skipper?" Kowalski asked as he pulled the chess set from a cabinet.

Skipper looked at his legs. "I assure you, Kowalski, everything is just fine."


	8. Epilogue

_Five Years Later_

"Are you nervous?" Laura asked as she adjusted Harold's cap.

"Nah," Harold answered with a smile. Laura crossed her arms and gave him a look. "Okay, fine!" Harold admitted. "Maybe a little."

Laura smiled. "You'll do fine. Now, go! They're waiting for you," she said, ushering him toward the stage.

"And now," said a man at the podium, "our August Martin High School valedictorian of 2020, Harold Chance!"

Harold smiled and waved at the audience in the auditorium as they applauded.

"Thank you, everyone," he said into the microphone. The audience silenced and clicks of cameras replaced it. "Before I begin, I would like to say that what I'm about to say is something I've never told anyone before. Not because it doesn't matter, but because I was waiting for the right time. I think now is that time.

"Six years ago, I was involved in a motor vehicle accident in Manhattan. And no, not caused by me." He paused for laughs and continued when it died back down. "For two weeks, I was barely responsive because of the amount of pain medicine I was given. When I finally came back to full consciousness, I was told there was a twenty percent chance of my walking ever again.

"I was devastated. The doctors offered physical therapy, and I only accepted because my mother and sister begged me to. For almost a year, physical therapy seemed to do nothing. I still couldn't even pick my foot up off the ground. I thought it was hopeless and was coming close to demanding that therapy be cancelled for good. Then finally, I was sent a sign.

"I'm not going to tell you what it was, because sometimes I wonder if I really saw what I thought I saw or if the accident screwed me up worse than I'd thought." He paused again for laughs. "Either way, I accepted it as a sign because I needed hope. And though I still have to use this blasted crutch, at least I didn't give up, or I wouldn't be standing here at all.

"The reason I'm saying this is because I wanted to make this point. Hope is a powerful thing, and if you can use this hope to fuel your determination, you can do anything. That is why I stand here today, and it can become where you all stand tomorrow, or next week, or even five years from now. Anyone can turn 'what I can't do' into 'what _can't_ I do.' So, students of August Martin, what I want to advise you of today, is to never give up hope. If you can believe in hope, then you will discover that miracles can really happen."

The audience applauded and Harold called a powerful, "Thank you, AMHS!" and hobbled offstage with his crutch on his right side.

Laura was still applauding as he came backstage. "That was an amazing speech, Harold!" she said, hugging him. When she pulled away, she said, "You know, you can tell me what that sign was. I wouldn't think you're crazy."

Harold smiled and pushed some hair behind her ear. "Don't worry about it, Laura. You're better off not knowing," he said calmly.

Laura studied him curiously. "Is everything okay, Harold?" she asked.

Harold laughed. "I assure you, Laura, everything is just fine."

_Fin._


End file.
